


icepack

by erintoknow



Series: Aria [19]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Slow Burn, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 05:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20304001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: You let her lead the way to the living room, and gently sit her down on the couch. “How’s that knee feeling?”“Like I told you, Ariadne, it’s fine.”“Fine my ass.” You snap back. She limped the whole way home, hell you had to help her up the stairs. She’s as bad as you, you swear.“That’s pretty fine too.”





	icepack

“And then you just… POW right in the mouth!”

“Shut up!” You try not to laugh. “It was either that or let him shoot you.”

“You must really kill at the clubs.”

“Maybe I _should_ have let him shoot you.”

“No, no, it was great. Damn, where are my keys? Oh, thanks.”

“You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t for me.”

“I’m not _that_ bad.” The door knobs jostles as Ortega fusses with the lock. “You should’ve seen Sentinel the other week, we spent an hour looking and he had his keys the whole time.” The door swings up and light from the hallway floods into the darkened apartment. Getting through the door is a little awkward with Ortega’s arm slung over your shoulder, but the two of you manage to crab walk your way in. Ortega flips on the lights as you pass through the kitchen.

You let her lead the way to the living room, and gently sit her down on the couch. “How’s that knee feeling?”

“Like I told you, Ariadne, it’s fine.”

“Fine my ass.” You snap back. She limped the whole way home, hell you had to help her up the stairs. She’s as bad as you, you swear.

“That’s pretty fine too.”

You stiffen, the ghost of her arm still felt on your back. “You should get a professional to check on it tomorrow. Just to be safe.” You must have misheard that.

“I’ll be fine.” Ortega rubs her leg, scrunching and stretching out the fabric of the skinsuit. “You’ve certainly walked off worse.”

“Yeah well, I don’t exactly have…” You bite back the words in your mouth, swallow them down.

“What?” Ortega gives you a curious look and it’s too much. You need to escape it. Turn your back on her and retreat to the kitchen, hunting through the cabinets for plastic bags.

“It’s nothing. Look, just get it looked at, okay?”

“Mierda, I don’t need two moms.”

“So help me god, Ortega, you should thank your lucky stars it’s me and not Tiá here telling you.”

“I don’t know whether to be ecstatic or terrified at how well you two have hit it off.”

You roll your eyes, not that Ortega can see it. “She’s just grateful someone’s out there making sure her daughter doesn’t get herself killed is all.”

“She wants you to come over for the holidays, did she tell you that?”

You pause, staring into the freezer with a handful of ice. “Huh.” The lance of cold in your hand pulls you back out of your head and you resume filling the plastic bag. “Like the day of the dead thing?”

“Dia de Muertos.”

“Yeah. That.”

“You know how I feel about parties.”

“Ari.” Her voice is sharp. “This is a private family thing.”

“Here.” You walk back into the living room hold a plastic bag full of ice. You carefully wrap it in a towel you stole hanging off the dishwasher and toss it to Ortega. “Keep that pressed on your knee, it’ll–“

“I know what an ice pack is mamá.” Her voice is teasing but you wince anyway. “You should come.” And she’s back to serious again.

You linger, leaning your arms on the back of the couch, grateful for the barrier it makes. How Ortega has to tilt back and up to see you. “I don’t… it’d be weird, wouldn’t it?”

“How would it be weird?”

God, she’s really going to make you spell it out? “You just said it. It’s like, a family thing, right?

She scoffs at you. “What? You think you aren’t family?”

You roll your eyes. “Ortega, we’ve known each other for barely three years.”

“And yet we’re practically sisters already.”

Something about that comment makes you wince, makes you want to stab back. Why? “Oh, so now I’m your sister? I thought I was your mother before.”

Ortega takes it stride. “Nothing says you can’t be both.”

You have to bite your lip to keep form laughing. “That’s kind of fucked up, isn’t?” You shift position, “Scooch over, I’m sitting down,” you warn before vaulting over the back of the couch, sliding down next to Ortega.

“You know, one day you’re going to break the couch doing that and there’ll be hell to pay.”

You don’t even try hiding your laughter this time. “You’ll have catch me first old woman.”

“Hey! 29 is not old.”

“Practically obsolete. Sorry Sparkles, but thems the breaks.” You can’t help the grin on your face now as Ortega glowers at you, right hand too preoccupied keeping the ice pack pressed to punch you.

You touch a hand to your face– oh. Wince. “Well, I guess if I’m staying here awhile…” You try not to think about whether Ortega’s eyes are on you as you pull your mask off, running your other hand through your hair as is takes the new freedom to spill out all over your face in spiraling waves of reddish brown. It’s getting too long. You need to cut it back before it starts being a problem.

“I was wondering if I’d get to see that face today.”

You narrow your eyes at her as you drop your mask on your lap to continue fixing your hair. “C-cool your jets Carmen, or you’ll lose face privileges again.” You know perfectly well your face is awful, you wish she’d stop making jokes about it.

It doesn’t help that the way Ortega is looking at you is just making you more anxious. You shift position on the couch so you’re facing the balcony window. Huh. Still haven’t replaced the railing. Embarrassing. “Hey, I’ve been wondering,” Ortega starts and you brace yourself. That’s a terrifying way to start a sentence. “Are you seeing anyone?”

You freeze, both hands in your hair, mind blank.

What?

“Oh– sorry.” From the corner of your eye you can sea Ortega reach back with her free hand to rub at her neck. “I was just… You’re always getting an earful from me and well,” Ortega keeps rubbing the back of her neck. “I just wanted you to… uh, feel free to vent your own troubles?” She glances at you. “I mean, if you want to, is all.”

You don’t look at her. “This is about that music guy isn’t?” Are you angry? Anxious? Both?

“How many more times do I need to say sorry about that?”

You press your lips into a grim smile. “At least two more milkshakes.”

“Well that’s not so bad.”

“You’re hard to stay mad at.”

You don’t have to be looking at her to know she’s got that smug grin on her face. “I’m just naturally charming.”

“Three milkshakes now, old lady.” You bite your lip, tracing patterns on your leg as you stare out the window. “You really don’t need to keep trying to set me up with people. It’s… weird?”

Ortega huffs and leans forward, trying to intrude on your field of vision or see you face or both. “Why’s it weird?”

“It… it just is, okay?” You can’t tell her. It’ll beg too many other questions. Questions that you aren’t ready answer. Aren’t ready for how it’ll change things. You like what you have now. Too much maybe. You should have known better than to have gotten this comfortable with the Marshal. “I’m… not interested, is all. I guess.” You press your finger into you thigh, little patterns you’ve learned by heart now. You don’t want her to look at you differently. Like a man or like a–

There’s a brief moment of merciful silence and then– “So you _are_ into women then.”

You choke. “_What_?”

Ortega laughs at the look on your face. “Honestly. I should have put it together after how hard you crushed on Sunstream.”

You can feel the heat on your cheeks. “God, what? I was just– Look. She’s been through a lot okay?”

“You were _just_ worried for her.”

“Yes!”

“As a friend.”

You turn to look Ortega in the eye. You really need to snip this in the bud now or you’ll never hear the end of it. “I’m serious! You _know_ how hard she took the Nanosurge.”

She raises a hand, “Okay, okay.” She doesn’t sound like she believes you.

You can feel the anxiety in your gut as the silence stretches out between you. “…I hope she’s okay.” You admit. No one’s seen or heard from Sunstream since the letter with her surprise resignation. You’ve done some poking around on your own, and it’s only given you a sinking dread the more you’ve looked. It feels like a warning shot.

Carefully, Ortega puts her hand on your knee. “I’m sure she’s doing fine. I think she’s got family out east.” Does she really think that or is she just trying to reassure you?

“I… I hope so.” You let out your breath, slumping into your seat.

There was a time, before you started taking pills, that you found certain… men and women, had a… magnetic quality. They drew your eye whether you wanted it or not. It almost always got you nothing but trouble during missions. To say nothing of other, more dysphoric, thoughts. It had been a relief when that all went away.

Or… it seemed like it had. Was Ortega right? Had you been crushing on Sunstream? But your concern had been strictly altruistic, hadn’t it? It had to have been, right? The idea that maybe you had some alternative… predatory(?) motive… You have to swallow down the nausea.

“I don’t know… how do you…” You bit down on the inside of your check hard enough to make you wince. “You’re the expert.”

Ortega raises her eyebrows at you. “Uh-oh. What’s this about?”

You roll your eyes at her, look away. “H-how do _you_ know if you like someone?”

“Uh–” You glance back at her. You’ve made Ortega uncomfortable again. That seems to be happening more often lately. You can feel the knife of tension in your guts. Whatever it is you keep doing wrong, you wish you could stop.

She rubs at the back of her neck with her free hand as she looks away. Lost in thought? “Well, it’s.. you just know. I guess? Something clicks and off you go.”

“Sorry.” You whisper. “That was a weird question.” This is too much. You can feel your throat pinch too tight. Try to swallow it down. You push off the couch so you can pace by the window. Put that nervous energy to something besides hurting your leg.

“Being a celebrity doesn’t help.”

You shoot her a look. “You poor thing.”

“I’m serious!” Ortega’s voice is light but she’s not smiling. “Sorting out who’s genuine and who’s not… having some gossip rag blowing up every coffee into a new relationship… You’d be better off asking literally anyone else. I think my perspective might be a little warped.”

“I thought you said you ‘just knew’ or something.”

You watch Ortega squirm on the couch through her reflection on the glass window. “Well…” She forces a laugh. “I guess it isn’t really that simple.”

A thought occurs to you, bringing your pacing to a halt. “Wait.” You look at her, “Do _you–”_ You cut yourself off. You don’t want to finish that sentence, or hear the answer you’re sure to get. The impossibility of the thought already hurts too much.

“What?”

“I–it’s– it’s nothing.” You lie. “S-sorry.” You roll your shoulder, feel the little pops and cracks. “Just stop trying to set me up with guys, okay? I’m… I’m not interested.”

Ortega looks back at you. You know that expression, like she’s trying to figure you out. Why do you keep talking to her? The more you talk the more she learns, the more dangerous she is. “No more men then?” She says.

You narrow your eyes. Like you wouldn’t catch that. “No more _anyone_.”

That gets a smirk, and Ortega waves a hand in defeat. “Alright, alright.”

You run a hand through your hair. Should have brought some bobby pins with you. “I don’t even get why you care so much.” You say as you return to the couch.

“I just want my friends to be happy, that’s not a crime now, is it?” She laughs. “It’ll be awkward if I have to arrest myself.”

You punch her in the arm, “Buzz off with that, Sparkles. I’m plenty happy as is.” God this whole conversation is fraying your nerves. You laugh, letting anxiety transmute into more nervous energy. “What do I need some dumb boyfriend for when I’ve got a best friend?”

Ortega gives you a strange look, one you don’t know how to read. A kernel of panic starts in you mind before a grin breaks across her face. “So you’ll come to Mamá’s then?”

The question catches you off balance. You thought you’d successfully evaded that one. “I…” You look at Ortega, the expectant impression on her face. “Fine.” You say, admitting defeat. “But no more of this… w-weird matchmaker business. Okay?”

“Alright.” There’s that smug grin again. “If you ever change your mind though, I’m happy to help you out.”

You roll your eyes. “_I– I won’t_, I promise you.”


End file.
